


You're A Wizard, Eugene

by The Hogwarts Edition (p0stScriptum)



Series: HOW TO BE A WIZARD [1]
Category: Brave (2012), Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:26:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5587645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0stScriptum/pseuds/The%20Hogwarts%20Edition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young orphan Eugene dreamed of castles, daring adventures, wealth and prestige and better things. In all of his fantasies and daydreams, he had never dared to dream of magic.</p>
<p>But apparently there is more to Eugene Fitzherbert than anyone had thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're A Wizard, Eugene

Young orphan Eugene Fitzherbert dreamed of castles and daring adventures, of wealth and prestige and better things. The younger orphans at the orphanage looked up to him because he is optimistic. He has plans. One day he will leave behind the orphanage and become something special. He’ll become an adventurer, a dashing swashbuckler like Flynnigan Rider, the character in the book Eugene had found stuffed behind one of the orphanage’s raggedy bookshelves. For a kid who had nothing except a name like “Eugene Fitzherbert,” that had always seemed like his best option.

He’d been determined and resolute in his dream for the future, merely bidding his time until he was old enough to go out and take on the world, which is why it came as such a surprise when an old hag appeared at the orphanage and told him that he would be attending “wizard school.” It had thrown him, because in all of his fantasies and daydreams, Eugene Fitzherbert had never dared to dream of magic.

But apparently there is more to Eugene Fitzherbert than anyone had thought.

Now he stands on the busy platform dubbed Nine and Three-Quarters (and how odd is that?), watching as kids and parents shuffle about hurriedly, owls hooting from their cages and heavy trunks scraping as carts are pushed forward, smoke from the engine of the Hogwarts Express drifting over the chattering crowd. The scatter-brained old hag who had been acting as his guide abandoned him as soon as he stepped through the barrier, disappearing without a word. Eugene doesn’t mind. He’s used to being on his own, and besides, he barely notices her absence because he is too busy staring.

For a long moment, Eugene stands motionless in the mass of moving people, completely awestruck. Even with all the magic he’s witnessed these past couple weeks, the scarlet steam engine is by far the most amazing thing he has ever seen. This is the train that is going to take him to Hogwarts and carry him away from his boring life at the orphanage.

It hits him suddenly that once he boards the Hogwarts Express, his life will be changed forever. 

_No,_  he sternly reminds himself.  _My life is already changed forever._  Eugene can never go back to being the worthless unwanted orphan that he had thought he’d been all his life. He is a wizard, always has been. This is his life. This is who he really is.

_This is where I belong._

Sucking in a deep steadying breath, Eugene resolutely pushes his cart down the platform in search of an empty compartment. Most of the carriages are already packed full with rowdy children, so he keeps going, pressing through the crowd until he reaches an empty compartment near the end of the train. He opens the train door and starts attempting to lift his heavy trunk inside with great difficulty – it’s so big and heavy that should it fall on him Eugene figures he may just flatten like a pancake. He finally manages to push the trunk up the steps and inside the empty compartment, collapsing with a loud sigh of relief onto the seat next to the window. He is suddenly thankful that he doesn’t have an animal cage to worry about, despite his earlier chagrin at not being able to afford a pet.

Money is a touchy subject for Eugene. As an orphan, he doesn’t have a penny to his name. Buying his school supplies had been a rather embarrassing experience, especially since the old hag had no qualms announcing Eugene’s monetary status to anything with ears to listen. He had to use money loaned to him from Hogwarts. And now, even though he only bought cheap pre-used supplies, Eugene is in debt already. It’s ridiculous.

The train gives a loud honk and the people on the platform start scurrying.

Eugene turns his face away from the window, not wanting to see the many happy families saying their dear goodbyes. He takes out his second-hand wand, a beat-up looking thing. The hag had smirked when she presented it to him as if it was some great find. Eugene's not so sure but he supposes it is better to have a shabby wand than to have no wand at all. His wand is short and brown, eight inches of oak wood. Nothing noteworthy about it. He wonders when he will be able to afford a better one.

The door of his compartment is thrown open quite suddenly and Eugene nearly jumps out of his seat in surprise. A red-haired boy stands in the doorway, appearing to be about Eugene’s age, a bit taller and chubbier though. The boy sweeps the compartment eagerly with his eyes and wrinkles his nose when his gaze falls upon Eugene.

_What? Is my hair sticking up?_  Eugene pats at his fluffy hair. It is still neatly combed.

“Who are you?” demands the boy. Rather than wait for an answer, the boy continues, rudely remarking, “You’re wearing muggle clothes.”

He makes it sound like Eugene’s clothes are utterly disgusting. Eugene honestly isn’t sure what the fuss is about. He’s only wearing a plain white shirt – clean, too – and his favorite pair of jeans. His shoes are a bit worn-down, he’ll admit. Still, it’s not like he’s indecent or sporting clothes with inappropriate slogans.

The way the red-headed boy stands there – all prim and proper – and the fact that he is already dressed in his school robes tells Eugene that this boy is probably one of the “purebloods” that the old hag had mentioned.

Eugene shrugs in the face of the boy’s disapproval. “I quite like my clothes.” He ignores when the boy scoffs and slaps a smile on his face. “But whatever. Name’s Fitzherbert. Eugene Fitzherbert. What brings you to my humble abode?”

The red-head boy shoves his pointy nose in the air. “I don’t need to degrade myself by talking to muggle-borns,” he says contemptuously. “But, I suppose I’ll humor you. You see, my brothers thought it’d be funny to magic my luggage away to another compartment. You wouldn’t happen to have seen any luggage floating around, have you?”

Eugene holds back a snort. Being a troublemaker himself, he’s well versed in the shenanigans of pranks and can appreciate a good laugh. He’s certain the pompous boy deserved it, too. However, laughing would only anger him and Eugene doesn’t want to fight right now.

He does allow himself a smirk. “Nah, can’t say I have,” Eugene replies lightly. “Tell you what. If I see any floating luggage, I’ll be sure to give a call for...”

“Westergaard,” the boy says, drawing himself up self-importantly. “Hans Westergaard.”

Then the red-headed boy twirls on his heal with elegant flourish that only comes from practice and leaves the compartment. Eugene huffs as the door slams closed again. “What a tool,” he mutters.

Not a moment after the compartment door closes, it is thrown open once again, revealing the small form of a girl, pale and freckled, with a bushy head full of fiery-red curls. She is facing away from him, facing the hall, when she yells, “I’ll gie ye, St. North!” Eugene hears a crash followed by Hans Westergaard screeching indignantly in the corridor. Another voice laughs – a nice sound, light and carefree. “Mark mah words!” shouts the girl before she slams the door shut and plops down on the seat across from Eugene.

_Another redhead,_  thinks Eugene.

She sits there with her face propped in her hands, stewing. It takes her a moment to cool down and notice him sitting across from her. When she does, her eyes – a nice shade of blue, not green, and without Hans’ contempt – widen.

“Och, sorry.” She straightens, big hair bouncing as she moves, and smiles sheepishly. “Ah thooght thes compartment was empty.”

Eugene immediately decides that he likes her voice. It’s different, accented and much rougher than he is used to hearing from girls. “It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t mind the company, really. You’re much better than snobby Westergaard.”

Her eyes spark in interest. “Ye mean Hans?” She laughs. “He's sae full ay himself! Mah mam invited heem ower fur tea ance – ye ken those play dates parents ur alwus tryin' tae force ontae their kids – an' Ah ended up sockin' heem in th' nose. Lucky fur heem. Mah dad micht hae snapped his neck if he’d kept on.”

“Er, right,” he agrees lamely. Eugene only understood half of what the girl said. “He’s such a tool.”

She smiles at him and holds out her hand. “Merida Bunbroch. Nice tae meit ye.”

He shakes her hand. She’s got a firm handshake. “Eugene Fitzherbert,” he replies smoothly. “And the pleasure’s all mine, milady.”

The red-headed girl crosses her arms and smirks. “Ah am nae a lady.”

He smiles a real smile. “Well, then your my kind of girl.”

Merida regales him with tales about her family. She has a father who had lost part of his leg in a war (Merida called it the Great Wizarding War), so now he walks around on a peg-leg like a pirate. She’s less enthusiastic talking about her overbearing mother. The way in which Merida describes her mother makes Eugene think of the caretaker at the orphanage. Then there are her brothers, triplets and right devils according to Merida. The stories Merida tells about her brothers make them both double over in laughter.

She’s very open when explaining her blood status. How her father is a pureblood who is hilariously awful at magic and her mother is a squib. Because her mother can’t do magic some people think Merida is no better than a half-blood. Merida claims not to care either way. She knows a person’s magical ability isn’t dependent on their blood status – her parents are fine examples of that.

Eugene, bolstered by Merida’s open-mindedness, confesses to her that he is muggle-born. He doesn’t go into detail about the orphanage but he explains that he never knew his parents so the best he knows is that they were Muggles. He tells her how he knew nothing about magic until a few months ago.

“I’m kinda nervous,” he confesses, “that I won’t be any good at magic.” Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe he isn’t really magical after all. Maybe he really is just an ordinary, unwanted, run of the mill orphan.

_Maybe I’m not special._

“Nah,” Merida assures. “Thaur ur plenty ay muggle-borns who dunnae naethin' abit magic until they gie tae Hogwarts. Yoo’ll be fine. Troost me.”

She shows him her wand holster, a neat magical appliance shaped like a wrist bracer that acts as a pocket, holding your wand until you trigger its release with a flick of the wrist. Eugene cannot wait until he has enough money to buy himself one of those.

“It’s th' newest model. Mah dad insisted.”

The train had long since pulled out of the station. Outside, there are fields of lush green and grazing cows and sheep. Once their conversation settles down, they sit back and watch the countryside roll past. For a while they stay in comfortable silence. However, the silence is ruined when the compartment door slides open again and a girl who has absurdly long golden hair, tied tightly in a neat braid that hangs down past her knees, comes inside with a frantic cry of, “Have either of you seen a chameleon, by chance?!”

She is wearing an expensive-looking fancy purple dress and is very pretty. Eugene privately thinks this girl could be the beautiful princess from any fantasy story he’s ever read, come to life, except he never imagined a princess behaving quite like this. There is a wand – white wood, intricately engraved – tucked behind her right ear and she’s pointing at them, back and forth, eagerly awaiting an answer.

Merida is the first to speak once the shock has worn off. “Uh, no?” she says and then glances at Eugene. “Hae ye?”

The way the blonde girl stares at them with those big desperate green eyes tugs at Eugene’s insides. He’s almost tempted to offer his assistance, to help her in any way possible.

He shakes his head. “Definitely haven’t seen any chameleons,” he confirms. “I would have remembered something like that.”

The pretty girl groans, sounding part desperate and part irritated. “I’m really sorry,” she apologizes earnestly, quickly backing out of the compartment. “Really sorry. Continue as you were.”

The girl closes the door and the compartment becomes quiet again.

“That was strange,” Eugene comments.

“Yeah.”

“So. You mentioned something about Quidditch earlier…”

A cart comes clattering down the corridor a little while later. Merida eagerly leaps from her seat and Eugene follows her out of the compartment to take a look at the trolley. He doesn’t have money to buy any treats so he takes stock of the options instead because one day he will have money and will be able to buy any treat he wants. Therefore, he should know what his options will be. He isn’t expecting Merida to insist upon buying him a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

He tosses a bean into his mouth only to grimace upon tasting it. “Ew – it tastes like spinach!”

Merida laughs. “Yoo’re lucky it isn’t haggis flavored!”

The train ride is peaceful after that. Staring out the window, Eugene feels his eyes begin to droop. Somehow he forgot how tired he is in all the excitement, having woken up early that morning and barely sleeping during the night. He falls asleep to the gentle lull of the train. Merida wakes him up after some time, wearing her school robes.

“We're nearly thaur,” she announces. “Ye better pit on yer robes.”

Eugene opens his trunk and takes out his robe. He slips it on over his clothes and doesn’t both with anything else. “What do you think it’ll be like?” he asks, snapping his trunk closed and sitting back in his seat, trying to keep composed, though he can’t help twirling his thumbs nervously. “Hogwarts, I mean.”

He wishes he’d read  _Hogwarts: A History_. If he had, maybe he would know what he’s about to be getting himself into once the train stops and he has to get off.

Merida grins. “It’s gonnae be absolutely amazin'. Yoo’ll see. Ah bit we’re in th' same Hoose, tay. That’s Gryffindur, ay coorse.”

Merida already told him about the Houses. Gryffindor is the house of the brave, the house where her father was sorted and most definitely the house where Merida belongs. It sounds like the best house, the most auspicious, the one that surely promises much adventure. Eugene hopes he is Gryffindor, too.

A voice echoes through the train:  _“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately.”_

Eugene huddles against the window with Merida as the Hogwarts Express speeds towards its destination, hoping to catch his first glimpse of a real-life castle.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of prequel piece to the series I am writing. The introduction, if you will. Expect loads of more characters in the future.  
> Please comment. I do appreciate constructive criticism and if you have any thoughts or recommendations I'd be happy to hear them.


End file.
